


The Curly Knight and His Blue Eyed Angel (or Alternatively, The Blue Eyed Angel and His Curly Squire)

by gloria_andrews



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, M/M, MORE FLUFF!!, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_andrews/pseuds/gloria_andrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexy stumbles upon a mysterious painting in a remote corridor at Hogwarts. The Bloody Baron tells her the story of its inhabitants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curly Knight and His Blue Eyed Angel (or Alternatively, The Blue Eyed Angel and His Curly Squire)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story for Lexy ([100percentsassy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/100percentsassy/pseuds/100percentsassy)) because she is my friend and also we were talking about how excellent it would be if real life photos were like Harry Potter photos. You know, because then we'd get to see Harry and Louis making out all the time. Somehow we started talking about how besotted Hogwarts painting versions of them would be with each other as well. It's super fluffy!!! hurray. I hope you like it.

Lexy was in her third year at Hogwarts when she took a wrong turn and ended up in a corridor on the East side of the castle, one she’d never been down before. Lexy had been reading while walking, engrossed in the strange muggle romance novel she’d found over the summer in her neighbor’s backyard, and she only realized her mistake when she nearly crashed into a suit of armor, one that shouldn’t have been there, not on her regular route back to Ravenclaw Tower, anyway. She stood in the hallway for a minute, blinking dumbly and watching the dust motes float in the light coming in through the narrow windows next to her. 

 

“Oopsie.” Lexy muttered as she got her bearings, patting at the suit of armor in apology for almost toppling it over. She gave a little laugh, “Wrong way, silly me, sorry.”

 

It was as she made to turn around that she saw the paintings, an unusual triptych on the opposite wall, lit up in the afternoon sun. The center painting was bigger than the other two, fluffy white clouds hanging low over a meadow, complete with a babbling brook, a grazing horse, and a single apple tree. It was a perfect composite of the two pieces of art surrounding it, and Lexy wondered why.

 

She drifted toward it, fingers at her lips, eyebrows knit in concentration. There didn’t seem to be any residents in the paintings, save the horse.

 

“It’s a love story, that one.”

 

Lexy jumped and gasped, turning her head to see who had spoken.

 

“Sorry,” The Bloody Baron said mournfully, shimmering silver in between two streams of sunlight. “Didn’t mean to scared you.”

 

She shook her head, “‘s ok. Just startled me, really.” She turned back to the paintings. “How’s it a love story?” She asked, “There’s nobody there.”

 

The Baron smiled very slightly, surprising her. She’d only ever seen him grimace before. He raised a ghostly finger toward the painting, pointing at the fluffiest of all the fluffy clouds in blue sky of the center painting.

 

“They’re sleeping,” he said, dropping his voice to a barely audible whispered. He pointed again and Lexy followed the line of his finger, leaning in toward the painting, her breath held in her chest.

 

Sure enough, nestled up in the soft white fluff of the fluffiest of all the fluffy clouds, were the tops of two little heads. One with curly chocolate locks, the other lighter brown. They were snuggled together, tucked into the cloud like it was the coziest of cozy duvets.

 

Lexy turned back to the Baron, her eyes wide, heart fluttering. He raised a finger to his lips and then beckoned her back across the corridor.

 

“Do you want to hear the story, then?” He asked, as they gazed at the paintings from the across the hall, far enough away that they wouldn't disturb the sleepers.

 

Lexy nodded eagerly, eyes even wider.

 

The Bloody Baron chuckled, smiling again, gently. She felt something tug at her heart at the wistfulness on his face, patchy memories of the circumstances of his death flitting through her mind.

 

“Is it sad, at all?” She asked quickly, suddenly concerned for his heart and her own, if the tale was too dramatic. Even though she knew it had a happy ending.

 

“No,” The Baron said. She could feel the warmth of his sad eyes, even though he was ghost. “No, it’s happy through and through.”

 

Lexy let out a sigh of relief. “Ok. Good. Ok.”

 

“Ready, child?” The Baron asked.

 

“Ready.” She confirmed.

 

 “This is The Story of the Curly Knight and His Blue-Eyed Angel.”

 

Everyone thought Harry was a knight. He knew. He heard them say it frequently when they passed by his painting. Sometimes the friendly ones even addressed him that way.

 

“Hullo Curly Knight! How are you, today?”

 

“Good morning, Knight! What do you call your horsey?”

 

“Niiiiight Knight. Hahah get it?”

 

Even though, actually, Harry was a squire. That’s what Harry’s painter had intended, anyway. “Horse and Squire”, his frame said in proud black script, but no one seemed to notice.  Harry wasn’t ashamed to be a squire, not at all. He loved his beautifully rendered squiring outfit. His soft brown leather shoes, perfectly tailored navy blue leggings, wonderful cream-colored tunic with the crest of his absentee knight embroidered on the chest. It suited him. He wasn’t ashamed of his squirehood at all. In fact, he’d initially tried to correct the mistake, calling after the witches and wizards who swept by to no avail. No one ever really listened to him. It was too late.  So now, Harry always happily responded to their overtures, despite their misconception, because it was best to be polite.

 

“Very well, thank you.”

 

“Good morning. He’s called Dominick.”

 

 “uh huh, I do.”

 

Harry loved being a squire that everyone thought was a knight. He loved his painting. He loved climbing his apple tree and feeding Dominick. He loved sweeping the sword of his absentee knight through the grass of the meadow and watching it part and flop back into place. He loved riding Dominick all the way to the background of their painting and then up to the foreground again, hooting and hollering as they went. Harry was a homebody, really. But occasionally, on days when no one who walked by called out hello and the Irish lad from three frames down didn’t stop by to chat, Harry would feel a little antsy and a little lonely and then suddenly his own painting just wouldn’t seem like enough. So, he’d run a hand down Dommy’s lovely mahogany neck and whisper, “Let’s go see what’s out there, boy.”

 

Sometimes, Harry just had to go exploring.

 

It was one of those times, far from home in a misty autumnal forest painting on the opposite side of the castle, that Harry first met the Angel.

 

The woods that Harry and Dominick were so bravely traversing were quite dense. The vegetation so thick that Harry had to dismount, coaxing the horse along on the uneven ground and pointing out troublesome roots and loose stones.

 

“Just a little further, Dom. I promise” Harry murmured, turning back to look the tired horse in his big weary eyes, “I think the falls are just around this bend. I swear Niall said—”

 

Harry cut off speaking, stilling in the forest, his hand raised to Dominick to show he should do the same. Something had rustled in the bushes to their left. Harry held his breath.

 

The sound came again, accompanied this time by some disgruntled snorting noises that had Harry’s heart pounding in his chest, had him wishing he really was a knight, so he possessed more courage. Niall wouldn’t’ve sent them to a painting with a troll or a giant in it, would he? No. No. He wouldn’t. But still, Harry's heart was racing. It was getting closer, whatever it was, and he could feel Dominick shying next to him, desperate to get away. Harry couldn’t get himself to move though; he was terrified, frozen in place by fear.

 

“AHA! I’ve got you now!” Came a triumphant cry. And a blurry shape came bursting out of the underbrush at high speed, tumbling to a stop in a pile of oak leaves several feet in front of Harry.

 

Harry stared straight ahead, even more wide-eyed than before. He was still frozen in place, but now it was due to wonder. Wonder over heart stopping beauty.

 

The creature before Harry was draped in soft white robes that set off his honey-toned skin. The robes had fallen slightly to the side when he'd come to rest on the ground and Harry swallowed thickly as his eyes trailed up the sliver of perfectly formed leg this had revealed. The creature’s chin was ducked and he was polishing furiously at the golden circle in his hands with the edge of his robe, cursing at it as he worked.

 

“Bloody, blasted thing.” The creature muttered, “You know I’ll always find you in the end.” His sooty black eyelashes fluttered as his swore, casting shadows on the lovely angles of his face and making Harry’s heart stutter even more.

 

Minutes past and at last the creature seemed satisfied with the shine of the object. Harry could see that he was smiling by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, even before he lifted his face and placed the circle atop his head.  

 

“Are you an angel?” Harry breathed out, in awe.

 

To which the maybe angel responded with an earsplitting shriek, leaping about a foot into the air and hovering there, his dainty hands clasped over his mouth. His tiny wings were beating like a hummingbird’s to keep him airborne. He blinked at Harry in surprise. His eyes were silver gray in the low light of the woods, but Harry knew that they were blue. Bright bright blue. He could tell. He was already picturing this maybe angel back home with him in his meadow. His blue eyes would be brilliant in the sunshine while he rested his head in Harry’s lap and they shared an apple from Harry's tree.

 

“Yes.” The creature said finally, coming back down to the ground, “I am. I’m an angel. I thought--I thought I was alone.” He tugged at his robe where it had slid down his right arm, exposing one delicately wrought collarbone and the flawless juncture of his shoulder and neck. The angel looked a tad bashful, self-conscious about about his dress being in such a state of disarray. His cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as he brushed at the dirt on the fine white fabric of his robes. Harry blushed himself and averted his eyes, not wanting to get caught looking.

 

“Sor—Sorry,” Harry stammered, examining the decomposing leaves on the forest floor with great apparent interest, absolutely at a loss for what to say next. He kicked at a large mushroom, his face burning with embarrassment. He’d never met an angel before. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Was he really to blame?

 

Dominick seemed to sense Harry’s nervous discomfort and, like a true friend, only decided to embarrass him further, whickering and nudging him toward the angel with his forehead.  Harry tried to dig his heels into the ground, but it was slick with rotting leaves beneath his feet and Dominick kept pushing him forward even as Harry cursed him under his breath, swearing he’d never let him go any faster than a slow canter again for the rest of his life if he didn’t stop right this instant. Dommy seemed to sense this was an idle threat.

 

 

When the horse finally relented, the squire and the angel were less than a foot apart. Harry was utterly mortified.

 

 He glanced up shyly through his curls, heart clenching with anxiety. The angel’s kind eyes met his immediately and Harry smiled then, shakily, almost as a nervous reflex. The grin that spread across the angel’s face in return ignited a gorgeous fire in Harry’s heart, setting it absolutely racing.

 

“‘m Louis.” The angel said, his eyes twinkling. “Was just chasin’ me halo through the woods again.” He rolled his eyes up at the golden circle that was perched lopsided on his head, “She thinks it’s funny to roll away sometimes, even when I’ve just set her down for a moment. Just a moment! 30 seconds at the most! Sometimes an angel wants to adjust his fringe! Is that so hard to understand? And the next thing you know, I’m half way around the bloody castle, wasting a whole damn day!” Harry wasn’t sure if this was all being directed at him any more, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the way Louis the Angel’s little hands moved through the air as he spoke, the way his wings were audibly fluttering in frustration on his back. Louis leaned toward Harry, whispering, “I wouldn’t have to set her down so often, if she’d hover off my head like a normal halo.” He dropped his voice even lower, “She likes my hair.”

 

“So do I!” Harry wanted to shout. But instead he just nodded in understanding, like he knew all about the problems of stubborn halos and how vexing they could be.

 

They fell into silence, Louis’s warm eyes moving over Harry and Dominick, making them both fidget.

 

“Maybe it’s not so bad I’ve come this far after all,” He said, after his appraisal, smiling brightly again as he looked Harry in the eye. “Are you a knight, then? Is this your noble steed?”

 

 Harry shook his head, laughing quietly and clearing his throat. “I’m just a squire, actually. Dominick is m’horse.” He explained.

 

“And you are?”

 

“Harry.” Harry said, unable to keep from grinning, the glowing fire in his chest spreading throughout his veins as Louis beamed back up at him.

 

After a few minutes of gazing into each other’s eyes, the angel furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side in confusion.

 

“Can you hear running water?” He asked.

 

“The falls!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing Louis’s hand and tugging him toward the sound of the water before he even knew what he was doing. “They’re supposed to be beautiful!”

 

And they were.

 

And Harry the squire and Louis the angel fell in love that afternoon, holding hands next to the cascading water, their hearts thundering in unison as it rushed past. The air cooled off as the light faded and Harry drew Louis close to his side for warmth, since he was shivering in his thin angel’s robes.

 

“Not very practical, hmm?” Harry murmured, teasing. He smiled down at Louis in the moonlight, loving how it glinted off his halo.

 

And then Louis kissed him, soft and sweet and perfect. He insisted it was only to shut Harry up, but they both knew better. He’d gone up on his tiptoes to do it because he couldn’t calm the nervous fluttering of his wings.  

 

The only complication in their fairy tale love story was the distance. Their paintings just so happened to be on exact opposite sides of the castle. It was alright at first. Harry would make the trek over to Louis’s. He’d jump happily into the soft white clouds and kiss Louis over and over and help him keep track of his halo, searching for it through paintings when it purposely lost itself.  But inevitably, after a day or two, Harry would start to miss Dommy, whose weight couldn’t be supported by Louis’s clouds. He’d miss the bright sunlight of his meadow and his beautiful apple tree, and he’d have to go home. And of course, Louis would come visit Harry, too. They’d sit under the tree just like Harry had imagined, Louis’s halo resting on his belly, Harry’s hands in his hair. But just as inevitably, Louis would get homesick too, sad that the clouds in Harry’s painting were too wispy for a proper bed and longing to see his friends from his own neighborhood. The constant travel was tiring them out and making them cranky and quite frankly they were getting to be an irritation to everyone on the route.

 

So, several months later, Harry was at home without Louis. He was glumly brushing Dominick’s beautiful coat and sighing rather dramatically at regular intervals, when a wizard with a long graying beard happened to walk by.

 

“Why Curly Knight, what’s got you so blue?” The wizard asked, his blue eyes twinkling overtop the half-moon glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. His amusement at Harry’s theatrics was evident.

 

Harry let out his longest, most pathetic sigh yet, “I miss my boyfriend,” He said, feeling abject misery upon saying it out loud, his lower lip wobbling, “He lives on the other side of the castle and I’m scared the distance is too much.”

 

The wizard smiled warmly, cocking his head to the left, “I think maybe something can be arranged.” He said.

 

“And that,” The Bloody Baron said to Lexy, voice still low as to not wake the lovers, still fast asleep across the hall, “Is how Albus Dumbledore came to commission that painting you see now.”

 

Lexy’s mouth dropped open a little bit, “Albus Dumbledore?” She murmured, her tone marveling and reverent.

 

The Baron nodded, “He had their original paintings moved together to this corridor, so they had a shared space and always one of their own.”

 

“Are they still in love? As in love as the day they met?” Lexy asked, staring at the little tops of their heads peeking out of the cloud. Albus Dumbledore had been alive so long ago.

 

The Baron nodded, the touch of wistfulness back on his face. He smiled again, “Perhaps even more so than ever, m’dear, perhaps even more so than ever.”

 

He left Lexy standing at the painting then, floating silently toward the great hall with his hands behind his back. She should be headed there herself, it was nearly time for dinner now, the sky was getting dark.

 

“You can come back again tomorrow,” She whispered to herself, “They’ll still be here tomorrow.” But she lingered another minute, just in case.

 

Right as she had given up and finally turned to go, she saw something stir out of the corner of her eye. Her breath caught in her throat and she whirled back around, advancing toward the painting until her face was mere inches away. The curly headed lad’s arms came up out of the cloud and stretched above his head as he yawned, widely.

 

“Wha time is it?” He grumbled turning over on his side, poking at the boy next to him, who only grunted in response.

 

“Hello Curly Knight!” Lexy gasped, too excited to restrain herself, “Is that your angel with you?”

 

Both of them let out sleepy little yips of surprise at the sudden noise.

 

Harry rolled onto his back, rubbing at his eyes as he looked at her. He nodded, still too tired for much conversation.

 

Louis flopped about in the cloud, grabbing around for his halo and locating it next to Harry’s shoulder. He batted down the cloud fluff in front of him and sat up, giving Lexy an imperious look. His face was beautiful and his eyes were very very blue.

 

“Harold is only a squire, love.” He said, as if she couldn’t be more ridiculous. He let out a sleepy huff, “Please don’t encourage him in putting on airs.”

 

She could hear him continue to grumble as she hurried away down the corridor to dinner, his complaints about how the Blood Baron inverted the title of their story every time he told it fading away behind her as she went. “He’s always getting the title backward. It’s the Story of the Blue Eyed Angel and His Curly Squire, not the other way round. He gets so many details wrong too…Are you listening to me, Harry?”  

 

Lexy smiled. She didn’t need to hear any more. She could already tell. They were still in love. For sure. As much as the day they met, perhaps even more so than ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feed back appreciated!! Thank you for reading. 
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr: [gloriaandrews](http://gloriaandrews.tumblr.com/)


End file.
